Get Your Own Drinks!
by Atarah Derekh
Summary: A Come From Away fic. Beverley Bass faces some hurdles as a pioneer woman in aviation, not the least of which are WWII pilots. But she gets a little backup from an unexpected source. Bit of a character exploration.


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, nothing! Hogan belongs to CBS, while Beverley Bass belongs to herself. The lyrics referenced within this story belong to 20th Century Fox and to Irene Sankoff and David Hein.

* * *

Flight engineer Beverley Bass was feeling confident as she strode through the airport terminal. Today was her first day at a new job, and while she wouldn't be flying for a while, this job marked the beginning of the real climb toward her dream. Today, flight engineer, tomorrow, Captain Bass of American Airlines!

Beverley stopped in the pilot's lounge on her way out to the tarmac to greet the men relaxing there before their flights. "Morning, fellas!" she called cheerfully in her thick Texas drawl.

"Hey, lady, you've got the wrong room," one of the pilots replied. "Stewardess' breakroom is down the hall."

Beverley pointed at her ID badge. "Actually...I'm a flight engineer. It's my first day. I've been assigned to one of the 747s with Captain Hodges."

The pilots glanced at one another and chuckled. "Oh, Bern's not gonna like this," one of them said.

Beverley wanted to demand what the captain wouldn't like, but she had a feeling she already knew the answer. Not wanting to risk antagonizing her coworkers, she bit her tongue, but simmered internally.

"Speak of the devil," another pilot said.

Beverley turned to see a tall, graying man in a captain's cap enter the room. His ID badge announced that he was Captain Bernard Hodges. He looked friendly enough, with a face and demeanor that gave the impression he might brag about his latest grandbaby at the first opportunity.

"Morning, boys," he said. He quickly tapped the tip of his cap in deference to Beverley. "'Scuse me, ma'am, I can help you in a moment if you need to find someone. Have you fellas seen anyone from that new batch of flight engineers come in today? I have a...Base? Bass? Someone by that name assigned to me, and I need to give him the rundown on my plane and see how he does."

The pilots silently nodded in Beverley's direction, some of them trying very hard to suppress smirks of amusement. Beverley was doing the same, standing quietly and expectantly as Captain Hodges followed the men's signals and turned to her.

"You're kidding me."

Beverley thrust out a hand. "Beverley Bass, flight engineer. Pleasure to meet you, Captain Hodges. How d'you do?"

The captain reluctantly took her hand and gave it a slow shake. He quickly retracted his hand again to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Um...forgive me, but...no one informed me that I'd have a woman on my crew."

Beverley shrugged. "Well, I'm the first female flight engineer for American Airlines. Pretty exciting, really. So...can I...see the plane?"

Captain Hodges was still staring at her in disbelief. He shook his head and waved for her to follow him. "Yeah, sure, this way."

As Beverley followed her captain out to his plane, she could hear him muttering under his breath, "I didn't nearly cash it in in Manila just to have a woman in the cockpit of my bird!"

Beverley sighed to herself. This was sure to be an uphill struggle.

* * *

As her shift came to an end and most of the pilots she'd dealt with that day, including Captain Hodges, took to the air on their scheduled flights, Beverley flung her hat on a table in the lounge, flopped down in a chair and put her head in her hands. She sighed in exhaustion and exasperation. She'd endured nothing but belittlement, patronizing and criticism all day long. Every pilot she worked with treated her like a school girl on a class field trip. Captain Hodges was the sole exception, and he went to the opposite extreme, trying to make her feel incompetent as she fumbled through switches in the cockpit and ran inspections on the plane.

Thankfully the lounge was mostly empty, with only one older pilot quietly sipping coffee in a corner booth. Beverley noticed he didn't have the usual captain's cap. He instead fidgeted with a WWII crush cap. Beverley decided to avoid him. The pilots who had been giving her the most grief that day had all come out of WWII or Korea. She didn't want to find out that he was just like the rest of them.

Her solitude was short lived as several of the pilots she'd met that morning came into the lounge, having just returned from shorter flights of their own. A couple of the other flight engineers she'd met that day tagged along with them, including one baby-faced kid who still had noticeable acne. The pilots teased him for his youth, but in a good natured manner, inviting him to sit with them and have a drink.

Beverley didn't mind the other flight engineers, as all of them were subject to a bit of verbal hazing early in the job, and the kid in particular seemed sympathetic toward her. But he opted to stick with the men, hoping to stay in good standing with them.

"Hey, lady, how'd it go today?" one of the pilots called.

Beverley ground her teeth and steeled herself before plastering a smile on her face and turning to answer. "Oh, it went wonderfully. Captain Hodges is a...talented pilot who really knows and loves his plane."

"Yeah, y'all shoulda seen her out there," another pilot said. "She looked just like a perfect little girl scout. But Hodges sure wasn't havin' any of it! I've never seen him so mad!"

The pilots snickered. Even the other flight engineers reluctantly gave a few half-hearted chuckles.

"Hope you ain't got your sights set on flyin' one of those birds," the first pilot said. "Fact is, girls don't belong in the cockpit."

Glasses were raised in a chorus of hear-hears.

"And what makes you say that?" Beverley challenged, her temper rising.

"Well, it's called the _cock_pit for a reason," a third pilot said, drawing hearty laughter from his companions.

"Because most of y'all _are_ one?" Beverley shot back.

A few ooh's sounded around the room, and for a minute it looked like the pilot Beverley answered was going to rise to the bait. But he finished his drink and clacked the cup down on the table, leaning back in his chair.

"Listen, lady, you're gonna find real quick that this is a man's world for a reason. We own the skies. We did in the last three wars, and we still do now. So if you're so set on flying, you'll trade that engineer's uniform in for a stewardess cap, if you're smart. This is no place for a pretty little thing like you."

Murmurs of agreement quickly dissolved into further sexist remarks and catcalls.

"Hey, baby," one pilot called, "why don't you make yourself useful and grab me another drink? That's something a woman can do easily."

Beverley was about to lose it, and her tormentors were about to wear their drinks, when the older pilot in the corner abruptly stood.

"That's enough!"

The men went silent. Only the acne-plagued engineer dared to whisper, "Who's that?"

The response was rushed and very quiet, but Beverley caught most of it. "That's the General. They say the Pentagon grounded him after he got out of a Nazi POW camp, but he decided to be a civilian pilot instead because he couldn't stay out of the sky."

The General approached Beverley's table. "Mind if I join you?"

Beverley considered refusing his request, but his dark brown eyes twinkled with mischief and defiance. She had a feeling she'd found something of a kindred spirit, but still decided to test his sincerity. "It's a free country," she said somewhat dismissively.

The General sat and ordered them both drinks. "Don't worry, this one's on me." He extended a hand. "Robert E. Hogan. I apologize for my fellow fliers over there."

Beverley shook the man's hand. "They seem to have a lot of respect for you."

Hogan shrugged. "I've had to earn it. I was a colonel in the Air Force in WWII, but when I came home, they made me trade in my wings for a star. The promotion was alright, but man, I missed flying!"

"So you went commercial?"

"Pentagon wouldn't let me do anything else. But you can't take the sky from me. So I resigned my commission and started flying these big ol' Boeings. They're only slightly less clumsy than bombers and not nearly as fun as fighters, but they're planes all the same. People criticized me for taking a 'lower' position that was best suited for pilots who didn't make it past the rank of captain in the war. Some of my fellow pilots thought I was overqualified, or that I was trying to push them out of a job. None of them doubted my abilities, but they certainly did doubt my sincerity at first."

"Yeah, well, with me, they seem to doubt both."

"I watched you work a bit today. I don't doubt either. And these boys will soon see they were wrong to doubt."

Beverley blushed slightly at the praise, then changed the subject. "Is it true you were stuck in a POW camp for part of the war?"

Hogan smiled fondly, his thumb rubbing over the worn crush cap he still held in his hand. "Yeah, most of it. I also had some...other assignments that kept me grounded. Most of them are still classified to this day."

"I cannot imagine being stuck on the ground for so long after getting a taste of life in the sky."

"It wasn't easy."

Beverley fell silent for a few moments, trying to picture life in a POW camp for a pilot. The very idea sounded extremely depressing.

As they sipped their drinks and discussed work, life and planes, Beverley genuinely relaxed for the first time that day.

"I gotta say, I'm glad I found an ally," she said.

"Wish I could say I'll have your back until you get settled," Hogan said, "but I'm embarking on my retirement flight tomorrow."

"What? You're retiring?"

"60 is the mandatory retirement age."

"Ah. True. So what'll you do now?"

"Well, I'm headed from here out to New York, then I'm flying to Paris to meet up with some old friends I met in that POW camp. After that...I really don't know. Maybe get into some more trouble." He gave her a mischievous grin.

Beverley chuckled. "Well, it's good that I'll have an ally somewhere out there, anyway."

"I admit, I used to be a lot like those guys," Hogan confessed. "I didn't think women should be involved in anything remotely dangerous or that required long hours, or that was generally male dominated. I was one of those chauvinists who didn't believe in the full potential and capabilities of women."

"What changed your attitude?"

"Time, mostly. And a few women I worked with in France and Germany. There were a couple involved in the French Resistance who were very important in their positions, and one of them in particular—a scientist—really put me in my place." He chuckled as he reminisced. "Even then, it took until a while after the war for me to stop looking at women as nothing more than potential dates. I didn't see the ladies from the French Resistance after the war...until one of them came to Washington. We became friends, and I learned to treat her as an equal. We are _very_ different, but in many ways, she is my better. She is way smarter than me. A brilliant chemist. She found work here, but still faces a lot of discrimination in her field, even though she has a Ph. D. Most of the time she stands up for herself just fine, but I like to provide backup when I can."

Beverley's eye wandered to the crush cap in Hogan's left hand and settled on the gold band he wore on his ring finger. "You made acting as her backup a permanent thing?" she asked.

Hogan smiled. "Almost 25 years ago now. Honestly never thought I'd actually settle down. I didn't think it was something I was cut out for. Nor was she the one I envisioned myself with while I was in Germany. Funny how life works out."

"Sounds like it worked out in your favor."

"And with your determination, it'll work out in yours too. Believe me, if I of all people can learn to respect women in an unconventional field, these idiots can too. And a strong woman like you will easily show them how." With that, Hogan stood and stretched, putting his crush cap on his head. "Well, it's getting late, and I have to be up fairly early tomorrow for my grand ol' retirement flight. It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Bass."

"You too, General," Beverley replied. "And thank you so much for the encouraging words."

"Anytime. And please...call me Rob." He strode out of the lounge with a wave. "See you in the sky, future first female captain of American Airlines!"

Beverley returned the wave and smiled fondly. She sat for a while longer, envisioning herself wearing her wings. Someday it would happen. If General Robert E. Hogan was sure of that, she could be too.


End file.
